Dose of Truth
by Dr. Mini Pie
Summary: The Wolfsbane Potion promises much. Yet with Severus Snape involved, Remus Lupin is loath to take any chances. One-shot.


**Doctor's Note:** This short one-shot was my reward to myself after finishing a big project. I love reading about Remus Lupin from the _Harry Potter_ series (and based on the length and detail of his Pottermore bio, I'd wager J.K. Rowling never tires of it, either), and admire those who can write his character well. Please read, review, and above all enjoy! - Dr. Mini Pie

* * *

" _Locus Incarcero._ "

For the hundredth time Professor Remus Lupin waved his wand over the roof, walls, and floor of his barren office. He had cleared out his furniture early that morning; the rest of the day and well into what was now late afternoon had been spent sealing the space from the inside out.

Outside, Minerva and Filius had cast an equal number of their own fortifying, sound-deadening spells. The Headmaster himself had laid a protective spell over the entire corridor, the elegant power of which still zinged through Remus's blood every so often. He could feel it—this small corner of Hogwarts was _saturated_ with magic tonight.

It didn't feel nearly good enough.

"You will be embarrassed by all this preparation, Lupin," Severus had sneered as he handed Remus his final dose of the Wolfsbane Potion. "And my excellent skills in potion-making—which I have generously expended on your behalf—you will no longer despise."

Snape had released the goblet a moment too soon, so that Remus had to scramble to catch it.

"It isn't your skill I despise, Severus." Remus had left it at that. He had been too nervous to engage his old schoolboy enemy.

Indeed, his anxiety had come to a head. This close to moonrise, he couldn't tell if the unusual tingling he felt all through his body was the Wolfsbane, a sign of his swelling panic, or merely a side effect of his imminent transformation.

" _C-colloportus._ " His hand trembled too violently, forcing him to stop. Carefully Remus lifted the lid of his battered oak chest–not even a werewolf could do much damage to this old standby—and shut his wand inside.

There was an afghan stuffed inside as well, and a tatty cushion. Poppy Pompfrey had suggested having those handy in case he felt cold trying to sleep curled up on the hardwood. Remus had obeyed, keeping his amazement at her easy confidence to himself. _Everyone's_ easy confidence, it seemed.

"You'll be just fine, Remus," Minerva had said, touching his hand in a brief gesture of reassurance.

"We'll be out here standing guard as you asked us to," Filius encouraged, "although there's really no need. It'll turn out."

"You can trust Severus." Albus never tired of repeating it.

Even so...

Now Remus sat with his legs crossed in nothing but a threadbare nightshirt he'd borrowed from the Hospital Wing. He rubbed his tremulous hands together—it was rather chilly already, and the sun had set. His fretful thoughts raced to anything but what they knew approached.

 _Harry._

Lupin wanted nothing more than to keep James's son from harm. He adored the boy, relished in the privilege of being his teacher. He was the only one left to protect Harry. Now that he had this chance to do right by his best friend—by his ghost, by his memory, and Lily's—would he throw it all away?

Why hadn't he just gone back to the Shrieking Shack? Was he so proud as to endanger Harry's life—everyone's life—just to give a supposedly revolutionary new potion a go?

Remus shuddered. He could not fathom keeping his mind as a wolf. He had come somewhat close a long time ago...but that had been only under the constant supervision of his metamorphosed friends. And even then, only in flashes.

Could he trust Severus? He would have trusted Lily. She had been the best at potions.

Once she had brewed him a chocolate-flavored pain reliever and brought it to him in a thermos the morning after a transformation. She had known about him for a long time—before even his mates knew, he assumed. She had worked to perfect that concoction, and she was proud of it. James had been jealous, of course—not of Lily's ability, but of the attention she had paid to Remus and not to him—

 _Any moment now._

Harry was like them both— _so_ like them both. The best parts of them both. If only Peter had lived to see it—if only Sirius had not ruined himself, if only he had not ruined _everything_ —

Oh, could he not dwell on something happy? Something besides his inevitable murderous rampage through the castle which lay only minutes away? Damned dementors outside his window—they could feel it coming, too.

 _When will it come?_

Remus wondered briefly if the Wolfsbane Potion caused delayed transformations. He had read up on it in its entirety and could not recall such a quirk—yet perhaps it had not been tested enough; perhaps it was a personal—

 _Here it is._

Wolfsbane did nothing for pain. Remus prayed the layers of silencing charms were working as his screams tore out, one after the other, on and on.

* * *

"Moon's been up for a half-hour now, and I've heard not a peep," Professor Flitwick remarked. He bobbed up and down on his heels in the dark corridor.

"I knew everything would be fine," said Professor McGonagall, who stood across from Flitwick with her hands clasped behind her back. "But good heavens, Remus was so distraught he had _me_ feeling a bit paranoid."

Flitwick nodded. "Can't blame him. Must be bloody awful—for a decent lad like him."

McGonagall gazed out the great window behind her. The grounds were awash in icy light.

"A _good man_ like him," she said quietly.

"...Indeed."

* * *

Reeling with pain and feeling light burn his eyes, Remus's first thought was that it was morning. He groaned and began to push himself up onto one elbow.

Immediately he froze.

He tried to shift his other arm. Then his left leg. His right. He raised his head. Lowered it. Flexed his back. His eyes he kept squeezed shut throughout all this.

He'd pass it off as a dream, but his body still smarted with fresh agony. This was real.

This was his own mind, moving a wolf's body.

Still Remus did not open his eyes. With deliberate motions, he rose onto four uncertain feet. _Paws._

He felt the light burning against his eyelids, and so he turned his head toward it. At last he opened his eyes.

There was the full moon.

Remus shook with emotion. He had never studied the moon—had never apprehended and understood the full moon with his human mind—not since he was four years old.

The wolf collapsed to the floor before the moon and wept.

* * *

Poppy was right—it did get cold. Remus had been too spellbound by the moon for most of the night to mind. But now in the graveyard hours before dawn he felt the chill of autumn seeping into his lupine bones.

He had left the lock undone on the chest so that the wolf might nudge it free with his nose and proceed to raise the lid—perhaps he'd had a little faith, after all. It sounded easy enough in theory. In practise things became quite different.

After many failed attempts, Remus sighed in frustration and shocked himself by the low growl that rose up from his chest in response. At last he managed to raise the lid, and he plunged his whole head in. He dragged the afghan out with his teeth—didn't bother with the cushion.

Clumsily he wrapped himself in it. What a story this would make at parties, if only werewolves were not so abhorred by the majority of the populace. _And rightly so—rightly so..._

It was quite warm all snug in the blanket, and Remus the wolf swiftly fell into sleep.

* * *

Professor McGonagall was surprised to see Lupin enter the Great Hall at dinner the following evening. He was ordinarily laid up for at least a day or two.

Taking his seat next to her, he gave her a smile that, although tired, brimmed with earnest sincerity.

"It worked, Professor," he said. He was all but grinning now.

"I couldn't tell," Professor McGonagall quipped gently. She couldn't help but smile back—he still called her Professor half the time.

"Thank you for standing guard last night," he went on, more solemn. "It means everything to me to know that Harry and these children were safe—that everyone was safe."

McGonagall inclined her head toward the opposite end of the staff table. "It's Severus who deserves the bulk of your gratitude, you know. Don't waste it all on me."

Remus pulled a slight face, but one that showed he was fully aware of the debt he owed. "Yes...I know."

He looked down the table. Professor Snape looked up just then, and their eyes met.

"Thank you, Severus," Remus said aloud. Snape raised his eyebrows in a flicker of haughty acknowledgement and turned away.

 _A friend of Harry is a friend of mine_ , thought Remus firmly as he scanned the Gryffindor table for that achingly familiar mop of ebony hair. He thought he might glimpse a vivid red one alongside it.

Perhaps trusting Severus would honor her memory, as well.


End file.
